


Alone

by emthefireybird



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Death, Kinda depressing, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Sad Ending, Septiplier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9982565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emthefireybird/pseuds/emthefireybird
Summary: Mark thinks he's alone in the world, but is he really?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this awhile ago before I really understood grammar so excuse my errors. Happy shipping :)

The sun beats down on my back persistently, making me feel like my blood is boiling under my skin. Around me, the horizon is flat and uninterrupted. It stretches out in all directions, making the wasteland seem endless. If I were to be honest I would tell you I haven't seen another person in weeks... It makes me wonder if there are any other people left. As I walk I can't help but let my mind wander to before this all happened, it just seems surreal to think at one time everything was so... normal. Before The Storm you could just settle down and live in a house with people you cared about without worrying if they'd survive to see the next day. Back then you could have possessions that didn't have to fit in a backpack. Back then you didn't have to constantly be on the run from death. Back then... It was better. The reason all this happened… Why The Storm happened is still unknown to me. The thing that wiped out the entire human race and I have no idea why it happened, just that I survived.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as I spot something gleaming out of the corner of my eye. Curiosity bubbles inside me and I head towards the glimmering light. 

 

As I near the spot I realize that the shine was caused by a metal hatch. It looks... New. The sand hasn’t covered it and there's barely any rust. Hope rises in my stomach and I knock on the door loudly, hoping whoever might be in there can hear me.

After a few moments of waiting, I decide no one is going to open the door and decide to do it myself. The hatch opens with a slight creak, sending a shiver up my spine. I climb down the ladder into complete darkness, peering around to try and make out what or who could possibly be in here. Just as I pull out my flashlight and switch it on I feel a dull pain erupt from the back of my head. My vision blurs and dims. The last thing I see is a pair of bright blue eyes.

My head is pounding. I reach up to feel for a wound only to have my hand restrained by a tight rope. I pull hopelessly against my binds, finding that my legs have been tied together too. "Hello?" I call into the darkness, hoping the blue eyed person can hear me. There's a click and a light flips on, revealing he's standing right in front of me. 

"How did you find me? Why are you here? Who are you?" He asks, pacing in a small circle around me. His voice has a subtle quality to it, as if he had a strong accent but it's long since faded. 

"I found you by accident, I was just passing by and I spotted your door," I tell him. He pauses his pacing, spinning on his heel and bending over to look at me, his eyes narrowed. The only sounds in the space are my breathing as he studies my face. 

"I believe you." He says, straightening. I can't help but let out the breath I was holding and uncoil my muscles. 

"What about the last question?" He asks, grinning slightly. 

"I'm Mark." I tell him, going to shake his hand and ending up just pulling my arms to the side rather forcefully. 

"Sorry about that." He apologizes, untying me. 

"It's fine." I tell him, rubbing my wrists. 

"I'm Sean, but you can call me Jack." He tells me, holding out his hand. I almost don't want to touch him, as if he's going to crumble in my grasp and I'll be alone again. I grab his hand and feel solid flesh there. I can't help but tear up as he helps me to my feet. "You okay?" He asks. 

"Ya, I just haven't seen anyone in a while." I tell him, wiping away the tears. 

"Well you won't be alone now, we can stick together." He smiles at me, his eyes shining as he rests a hand on my shoulder. 

“Ya, like glue.” I grin back. 

(Jack's POV)

I've been alone for awhile now. To be honest I'm not sure how long a while is, I gave up on calendars long ago. Needless to say, it gets lonely when you live by yourself in abandoned bunker. It also doesn't help that all your friends and family are dead or that you've spiralled into utter depression so bad that you spend your nights drowning in alcohol. But here, right now, I feel so elated it makes me dizzy. To be honest I feel like hugging this guy and crying my eyes out. I might hug him, he looks like a very huggable person. “You hungry?” I ask, letting his hand go. 

“Starving.” he replies, and I can tell by the sound his stomach makes he's likely not exaggerating. 

“This a’way.” I tell him, gesturing down the hall. I lead him past the bunk rooms and around the corner to the cafeteria. I make my way down the isle of tables, gesturing in the direction of the table closest to me. Mark sits, and I go about grabbing some food from the cupboard. 

“I don't have anything fancy or anything…” I apologize, flipping on the gas stove and warming up some beans. 

“Any food at all is a luxury at this point.” Mark replies, obviously indifferent to my lack of non-canned food. I take the beans of the stove and hand a bowl to mark, which I promptly scoop half the beans into. Mark grabs a spoon and immediately starts digging in, all ideas of decency and politeness crushed by his hunger. I take a seat next to him, hoping he won't end up sloping beans all over us both. Eventually my mind drifts off to other places, contemplating the things I need to get done soon and the projects I have yet to work on. I'm pulled from my daze as something lands on my shoulder. I looks over and find that thing is mark, who has promptly fallen asleep. 

“Mark!” I shout-whisper, shaking his shoulder lightly. “Mark!” I say, this time a little louder. I let my shoulders sag in defeat, making Mark’s head bob with them. I push him off my shoulder and swing my legs over the bench, holding him up while I stand. Now to get him off this bench and over to the bunk rooms. I turn him around and squat down, grabbing his thighs and heaving him onto my back. “Ugh… you're heavy.” I grumble, standing back up and hoping I can piggyback him all the way down the hall. With minimal stumbling and a lot of grumbling I make to the nearest bunk room. I make my way over to the nearest bed and set him down on it with a groan. I pull the covers out from underneath him and tuck him in. As I go to leave I'm stopped by a hand that has wrapped itself around mine. I pause and try to pry off the fingers, but his grip is too tight. “Mark!” I practically shout, but he doesn't react. I sigh deeply, sounding like a deflating tire. With my hand still trapped in his I lean over and hook my ankle around the nearest bed, pulling it towards me. Resigning to the fact that I'll be stuck here until he wakes, I lay down with my hand laying on his bed. 

I can't breath. I open my eyes and try my best to breath past the weight on my chest. The weight is Mark, who seems to have mistook me for a rather large and boney teddy bear. If my lungs weren't being crushed his warm embrace would be pleasant, but as of now my shallow breaths are ruining the effect. I go to move and realize his hands are up the back of my shirt. “Mark.” I whisper at him. He shifts, his hair tickling my chin and his scruff scratching my chest. I almost want to let him sleep. “Mark!” I groan, pushing at his chest. 

“Mmmngggg.” he groans, his eyes opening to a squint.

“Can you get off please?” I ask, still trying to push him off. His eyes widen and he practically leaps off me. 

“Sorry!” he apologizes fervently, his voice high pitched and louder than needed.

“It's fine.” I tell him, sitting up.

“So, uh, I have somewhere to go today. I hope you don't mind. I promise to be home for supper.” I tell him. 

“Not at all, it's fine.” he replies, running a hand through his hair in a way that makes it stick up in all angles. 

“While I'm gone you can assert yourself, since you won't be sleeping in… here, again.” I informed him, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks as I stumble over the last few words. 

“Okay, is there anywhere specific you'd like me to ‘assert myself’?” he asks, standing up and turning away from me before stretching his arms up towards the ceiling with a heavy groan.

“Not particularly. My room is in the captain's quarters so you can choose whichever room you like.” I explain, pretending to rub my eyes to keep my gaze from wandering and my cheeks from getting any warmer.

“Oh, okay. Guess I'll see you.” he says, I take that as my cue to leave. 

Mark POV

As soon as the door clicks closed I fall back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. Jack is so nice. Too nice. I feel really obligated to trust him but I can't help but hear that voice in the back of my head that says I shouldn't. At this point all I can do is listen to what he says and find out what happens later on. 

I break my train of thought and get up, making my way out the door and down the hall. 

After only a little wandering I find the captain's quarters, which actually have a hand painted ‘Captain BOSS’ scrawled on it. I don't want to snoop, really, but I need to know for sure that I can trust Jack. Sighing internally, I turn the handle and enter. The inside of the BOSS’s room is rather small, actually. Not exactly captain standard but there's enough room for a king sized bed and a desk so I guess it's fair sized. I creep over to the desk and shift through the papers and drawers, careful to put everything back where it was. After a few minutes of not finding anything I give up and wander back out into the hall in search of a room of my own. A couple doors down I find a room that looks like a bed could fit in it. I make my way back to the bunks and drag one of the metal cots over to the door. Now, I'm no engineer but I'm fairly sure that you should make you beds in a way that they will fit through doors. Apparently, that didn't occur to whoever actually made the beds. 

After much swearing and a bent bedpost, the bed is out the door. I proceed to drag it down the hall and into my room, promptly flopping down on it face first. I'm tired, sweaty, and laying on a bed, so it doesn't take take long to fall asleep.

“Mark!” I jump right out of my skin and sit straight up, nearly knocking heads with Jack.

“What the hell man?” I ask him, still blinking away the sleep in my eyes. 

“It's five in the afternoon!” he exclaims, grabbing hold of my arm and tugging me to my feet.

“So?” I question, still not happy about being woken so abruptly. 

“So, I'm back! Let's go eat!” he reminds me, tugging me out the door and down the hall.

“So I was thinking-”

“Ooh, really?”

“That we could do something to celebrate your arrival.” he finishes, glaring at me. We are currently sitting in the dining hall. Or at least I am. I'm sitting on a stool at the food window as I talk to Jack, who is on the other side cooking. 

“What were you thinking of doing?” I ask.

“Well since you're being Mr. Gumpypants, I don't think I'll tell you.” Jack smirks at me. 

“Aw, c’mon.” I groan, hoping to be told just out of pity. 

“Nope, nuh uh, never. You made your choice to be grumpy, now I've made mine.” he tells me, pointing a spoon at me. 

“Ugh, fine.”

“Keep your eyes closed.” jack instructs me, holding his hands firmly over my eyes as he leads me down the hall.

“Where're we going?” I ask, tempted to just pry his fingers off my face. 

“If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise.” he replies. We keep walking for a few moments in silence, until finally finally jerk to a stop. “Don't open your eyes.” he instructs me, taking his hands away from my eyes and leading me to sit on the ground. I feel the surface with my hands a realise we're sitting on a blanket. A gentle hand tilts my head upward. “Open ‘em.” Jack tells me, and I do. Above us the massive window of the greenhouse is wide open, the stars beyond it looking as if a five year old got a hold on some glitter and the sky.

“That's so cool.” I sigh, staring up at the star spattered sky.

“I knew you'd like it.” Jack grins. We sit in comfortable silence, both of us marveling at the heavens above. “Wanna play a game?” Jack asks.

“Sure.”

“Okay, here's how you play; I'm gonna ask you a question, and you have to answer truthfully. The catch is, I have to answer my question too. Every time a question is asked we take a swig of whisky.” he explains, swishing around a bottle of whisky I hadn't noticed before. I think back to the few pills left in my pack. I can't drink without them, and I don't have many left so I'd rather wait until later.

“That's fine and all, Jack, but I don't drink.” I tell him.

“Really? Okay. I can get pissed drunk and you can just, I don't know, chill.” Jack replies.

“Okay, you start.” 

“So, uh, what's your favorite colour?” Jack asks me, glancing over at me.

“Definitely green. You?” I reply.

“Red.” he answers, his shoulders sagging slightly as he takes a swig of whisky. 

“Where’re you from?” I offer. “Ireland.” he answers. 

“That explains the accent. I'm from the US originally.” I tell him. 

“I didn't know I still had an accent.” he muses, seeming surprised. 

“Well it's slight, but it's there.” I tell him. The room goes silent, both us pondering and staring out the window above us. 

“Without looking, what color ‘re my eyes?” jack inquires, shutting his eyes to ensure I can't peak. By now almost half the bottle’s gone and I don't think that's how ‘swigs’ work. 

“Bright blue. Like, if happy was a colour that's what colour your eyes are. Happy. Happy blue. That should be a colour. Now your turn.” I tell him, squeezing my eyes shut. 

“They're brown, like th’ color of hot chocolate on a winter day. They make you feel all warm n’ cozy even though it's cold as balls outside.” I open my eyes and find Jack grinning at me, as if he's just accomplished some feat. 

“How many kids do you think you'd have?” I ask him. 

“I dunno man, maybe like, three? Four? I ‘onestly couldn' care less.” he shrugs, taking another drink.

“I think I'd have two, that way it’s not too much to handle but I don't end up with a spoiled only child.” I reason, knowing fully well he’s not really listening. The room goes quiet again. I listen to the crickets and our quiet breath. Jack once again breaks the silence, though this time it's the sound of him chugging the his whisky. Before I can ask him what's up he looks me straight in the eyes and asks.

“How do you think you'll die?” 

“Alone.” I reply without thinking, over my time alone I've conditioned myself to believe such. 

“I won't let tha’ happen.” Jack promises, staring at me meaningfully. I hold his gaze for a second before firing the question back at him.

“Content.” he replies. 

“Oh really?” I ask, only half teasing. He doesn't seem to quite get that I was kidding.

“Ya, now tha’ you're here I don' think I could die any other way.” he answers. I pause, hoping he was saying that because he meant it, not because he was drunk.

“If you could ask me to do one thing, and I had to do it, what would you want me to do?” I ask, hoping to avoid an awkward silence. Jack pauses for a moment. 

“Ummm… probably just a hug y’know? Like tha’s all I've wanted since I met ya. Ya look like someone who’d give good hugs.” he tells me, looking embarrassed. I can't help but roll my eyes. 

“C’mere.” I becon, pulling him towards me. He ends up sitting in my lap with his arms wrapped around me and his face buried in my neck. His arms squeeze around me tightly, making it slightly harder to breath. “Uh, jack?” I prompt, rubbing his back lightly. There was no response, only tears rolling down my shoulder and slightly shaky breaths. “Jack?” I ask again, now worried. 

“‘M f-fine.” he stutters, his shoulders shaking. 

“Jack, what is it?” I ask, rubbing soothing circles on his back. 

“I don' know… I jus’… want…” the end of the sentence was lost as he broken off into sobs. I honestly don't know what to do for him other than sit here and hold him. 

“What do you want, Jack?” I ask quietly. 

“I want ya to, uh… stay. With me. I mean… you… you don't ‘ave ta, but I don't wan’ ta be alone anymore.” he calms down somewhat and looks into me eyes, as if he’s searching for an answer. 

“and by stay you mean…?” I ask, slightly confused by his request.

“Jus’, I don' know, hug me? Stay in my room tonigh’... possibly e’ry night? I just can't handle being by meself anymore.” he explains.

“Of course Jack.” I assure him.

“Okay, um, one more question… Do ya love me Mark?” he asks me. Damn he's drunk. How should I answer? What if he remembers this in the morning? What if he doesn't? I'm sure he'll be upset now if I tell him I don't but if I say yes he might remember that tomorrow.

“Jack… I, uh, love you.” I tell him, choosing to favor whatever consequences come later. 

“Really? I love ya too mark!” he slurs, tears in his eyes. 

“I think now would be a good time to go to bed.” I offer. 

“Sure! Jus’ le’ me finish this.” he grins, grabbing the bottle and swallowing the quarter bottle before I can stop him. “Le’s go!” he exclaims. He pulls himself to his feet and immediately stumbles and falls. Thankfully I catch him. 

“How about I carry you?” I offer, hauling him and myself to our feet.

“Okay…” he responds, his eyes already half lidded as he leans against me. I put one arm around his shoulders and the other under his knees, picking him up bridal style. His head lolls against my shoulder as I make my way down the hall to his room. I set him down on his bed and go to turn off the light. When I turn around I’m met with a face full of half naked Jack, who is sitting on the bed in his boxers as he tugs his socks off. 

“Uh, Jack?” I question. 

“Huh?” he grunts, glancing up at me. 

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” I ask him.

“Why are you wearin’ pants?” he questions back, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Well-”

“Do you wear pants to sleep?”

“No but-”

“Then strip.” he insists. 

“Fine.” I cave, doing as he asked. I walk over to the bed and lie down. Jack immediately does the same, clinging to my side like a fly to flypaper. “Goodnight, Jack.” I murmur, closing my eyes.

“Nigh’, Mark.” he replies, shifting slightly. I let my mind wander into the darkness my closed lids provide, hoping to drift off to sleep. We sit in comfortable silence for awhile before I feel Jack’s hand moving against my side in circular movements. He sighs and pulls closer to me. I can feel his hot breath against my neck. His lips brush my collarbone and I’m just hoping he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

(Jack’s P.O.V)

I fade into consciousness and find myself incredibly… warm. I go to rub my eyes and realize my arm is trapped under something. I open my eyes and find that the heat source is a lot more human than I expected. I try to recollect any of what happened last night. I remember a bottle of whisky, the stars above us and asking stupid questions. Oh fuck, did I really ask him if he loved me? What the hell happened after that…

“Jack?” comes a gruff, sleep heavy voice. I jump. “You okay?” Mark asks me, looking worried and slightly dopey with his eyes all bleary from sleep and his hair sticking up in all directions.

“What happened last night?” I ask, and I can see his face sink.

“Nothing really, you just got really drunk and, um…”

“Asked you if you loved me?” I finish for him, and his eyes widen slightly.

“Uh, ya.”

“And why exactly are we sharing a bed? Did we-”

“No! I mean, no, I wouldn’t take advantage of you when you’re drunk like that.” he assures me, and I let out a breath. I take a moment to collect myself and assess the situation. I make a sweep of the room, and stop as my gaze glances over Mark’s chest.

“What. Is. That.” I ask, my jaw set as I stare blankly at the red mark on his collarbone. He looks down and seems just as shocked as I am. 

“I guess, you must’ve done that while I was asleep. Nothing else happened though, I swear.” he promises, holding a hand over his chest. 

“I’ll take your word for it since I don’t really remember anything.” I tell him.

“I’m gonna go put on some pants” he says, not actually moving to do so. An awkward silence ensues.

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Just… don’t ask” he sighs, standing and scooping up his clothes from the floor. “I’ll see you later.” he mumbles, closing the door behind him. I lay back on my bed with a huff, closing my eyes. 

I try to remember what happened last night. That question... “But what was his answer?” I whisper to myself. I push that aside. I remember being carried here. I remember being put down on the bed. I remember sleeping plastered and sweaty next to Mark…I feel bad for him honestly, having to take care of me and then as soon as he wakes up he gets berated with questions. Speaking of taking care of me, my head hurts. I go to go look for water and any meds I might have left when I notice a glass of water and a note on my bedside table. ‘Apparently there isn’t any headache medication during the apocalypse.’ How sweet. At least he tried. I gulp back the water and immediately regret it as my head pounds painfully from the sudden movement. Groaning loudly I standing up and grab my pants off the floor, pulling them on. “Fuck, I’m hungry.” 

I open the door to the cafeteria and find Mark, who is still in his boxers, cooking. Somehow, he found an old apron and was wearing it. This was rather ironic considering he wasn't wearing pants. Mark seemed to be enjoying his irony as he was singing some offbeat pop song whilst swinging his hips to the music. I make my way over to the entrance of the kitchen, grinning ear to ear as I listen to Mark’s voice. His voice is hard to describe, it's like the kind of voice that you'd expect a giant teddy bear to have. It's all deep and soft, like ocean waves lapping over your feet. I wanted to tell him I was there, but I also didn't want him to stop singing. Before I had a chance to make up my mind, Mark turned and saw me. He jumped and stopped singing, an apparent blush spreading over his cheeks.

“How long have you been there?” he asks, seemingly panicked. 

“Not long, just long enough to watch your hips only reenactment of the Macarena” I tell him, smirking. His blush deepens.

“Well I, I mean, I didn’t, oh- there's no getting out of this is there” he sighs.

“Nope” I tell him, feeling as if my smile might rip my face in half.

“Okay, I was dancing in the kitchen in my boxers, so what?” 

“So you have to teach me how to dance” I respond casually, sitting on a nearby bar stool. 

“What? No, I was just messing around. Besides, it's not like I can’t actually dance” he muttered.

“Sure, Mark, whatever makes you comfortable” I reply, deciding I'd teased him enough.

“Where’re you going?” Mark asks me as I’m about to leave. 

“Just… off, to go check something” I tell him. He seems suspicious, but he doesn’t say anything. I grab my things from my room and head out into the blistering sun, squinting as the light impacts my eyes. Heat radiates from my surroundings, making me sweat slightly. I walk a little ways away from the hatch and set up my equipment. I've been doing this ever since I can remember, so the setup is easy for me. After a little tweaking I turn on the machine and it starts spewing numbers. To the untrained eye these look like they're nothing but random digits, but I know the purpose of this machine. It calculates the direction that The Storm is heading in. Watch the numbers and wait until they begin to repeat, taking the paper and switching the machine off. I close up shop and head back to the bunker, paper in hand. I open the hatch and climb in quietly, heading to my room without being noticed. I don't want Mark to know what I'm doing, not because it's some big secret, but because I don't want my paranoia making him worry.

Mark pov

I'm sitting in my room reading some old book when I hear footsteps passing my door. Curious, I get up and follow the sound. The footsteps are coming from Jack, who is walking down the hall in the direction of his room, his eyes glued to the price of paper in his hands. I follow him down the hall, keeping my footfalls in time with his. He passes right by his room and enters another door. I catch the door just as it's about to swing shut. Peering in, I can see stacks of papers littering a table and a small machine sitting in the corner. I watch as Jack pulls a chair up to the desk, sitting down as pulling out a pair of old-looking glasses. I didn't know he needed glasses. He begins reading the paper he'd been carrying. He looks concentrated, his eyebrows furrowed and his posture slumped as he leans over the sheet. I watch his expression as he reads. It changes from boredom to surprise to worry to sadness in quick succession. He lets himself flop onto the desk, eyes closed. I feel worry bubble in my stomach. If Jack is worried about something, I should be too. I hope he's okay. I don't want him to know I know about this, so I close the door quietly and head back to my room.

I sit on my bed and try to read again, but I can't focus on anything. What is Jack keeping from me? I lay down and stare up at the ceiling, my eyes tracing along the concrete. Just as I'm about to drift off my door squeaks open, and I look over to find Jack standing in the doorway, looking nervous. “You okay?” I ask, he nods. I sit up and gesture to the bed beside me. He complies and sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress. He looks like he needs a hug, so I give him one.

“Wha-?” he asks, loosely placing his hands on my back. 

“You looked like you needed a hug” I tell him.

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“You know what you look like?” he asks, looking at me mischievously. 

“What?” I reply.

“Shit” he says, giggling at his own joke. I push him off me. 

“That's not what you were saying when you were drunk Jackaboy” I tease. “What was it? Oh right, eyes like cozy hot chocolate on a cold winter day?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, and he scowls.

“Oh, and my eyes are happy blue, are they?” he jibes.

“Obviously” I grin.

“I… have something I need to tell you” Jack sighs, his demeanor shifting to serious as his eyes fill with sadness. “There's something coming; and we won't be able to escape” he tells me, brows furrowed and eyes watering. 

“What's coming?” I ask, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“The Storm” he says, his body folding in on itself as the words leave his lips. 

“The…” I fall silent before the last syllable can reach me. Dread sinks into my soul. The Storm is named as such because it is the biggest, fastest, deadliest storm to ever roam the earth. The world before now was filled with machines and life, but that cost dearly to the planet. We ripped, drilled, cut, tore, and tortured the earth until it had had enough. As if in revenge, The Storm came. It did to us what we did to it. Now, with nothing left to lose but our lives, it was going to take that too. “Are you sure” I ask.

“If I weren't, I wouldn't have told you” he replies, the sorrow in his eyes reflecting into mine. 

“It can't be… no, no, no no, no, no, no, NO!” I grip my hair tightly, not caring that it feels like I might just rip it from my scalp. All those people I watched die… I can't do it again. “What. The. FUCK!” I scream up at the obscured sky. “WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!” I yell, turning on my heel to face the obviously frightened Jack.

“I-I- I'm s-sorry” he sobs, his shoulders shaking as the held back tears begin to flow. 

“Listen, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry, j-just p-please tell me you're wrong, or kidding even; I won't be mad, I promise” I tell him, crouching down and wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

“I don't want t-to lie to you you more than I-I already h-ave” he stutters though shaky breaths. 

I sigh deeply. “It's okay. I just… wish this wasn't happening” I admit, sitting next to him and putting my other arm around him.

“B-believe me, I don't want this either” he stutters. I rub his back and pull him close to me, hoping it's as soothing as I think it is. His breaths start to even as he leans into my side.

“What do we do now?” I ask him quietly. He pauses, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. 

“We wait.”

 

\--:--

 

“You sure you’ll be okay with your weird alcohol intolerance?” I ask.

“Ya, I have my pills. Plus, if I’m not then whatever we’re gonna die anyways” he replies, I know he’s teasing but it still makes me shiver a little the way he said it. I unscrew the cap on my whisky, a little disappointed that the bunker hadn’t had anything fancier. 

“To death?” I ask, holding my bottle up. 

“To death” Mark replies, clinking our bottles together. We both take a swig.

“‘Tis a mighty shame we don’t have any music” I comment, leaning on Mark’s shoulder. 

“Ah, but we do.” he says, pausing. His voice rings through the empty space around us, somehow making the whole thing seem more surreal. I sit in silence and listen to his voice until it turns into a quiet hum. He only stops to drink. Before long our bottles are empty and all I want to do is sleep and let death wash over me painlessly. Mark has other ideas. “Jack,” he hums. “may I have this dance?” he asks, standing and holding a hand out to me. I can hear distant rumbling. 

“You may” I reply, taking his hand and joining him.

I hold back tears as his hand finds its way to my waist. He pulls me slightly closer, leaning in to sing quietly into my ear. The song isn't one I know, but the lyrics rock my already unstable frame shake that much more. “So you can dance” I sniff.

“Ya, I guess” he hums, his hand slowly traveling up and down my back. I take my hand from his and loop my arms around his shoulders, leaning into him. His arms wrap around me in a hug-like fashion, his hands resting on my shoulder blades. The rumbling becomes louder, sounding like a thousand claps of thunder all piled together. 

“I love you” I mumble into his neck.

“I know, I love you too” he responds, hugging me tightly.

The noises outside are becoming deafening. I close my eyes and try to hear Mark’s baritone voice over it all. We sway to a beat, one that is neither the song or the sounds of the storm above. The Storm comes like cannon fire, drowning out the sound of Mark's voice. I watch as cracks blossom their way along the ceiling, causing bits of rock and dust to fall. The hands on my waist shift and Mark dips me. I stare into his eyes and just as our lips touch, the world goes black.


End file.
